


Silvergone

by iliras_words, typing_dragon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Death, Bittersweet, Collaboration, M/M, Mention of Death, Paranormal, Plot Twists, Poetry, Ren and Hux are husbands, animal death is only mentioned in the poetic bits nothing graphic, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliras_words/pseuds/iliras_words, https://archiveofourown.org/users/typing_dragon/pseuds/typing_dragon
Summary: Why are you here? It's lost. Lostlost lost.





	Silvergone

**Author's Note:**

> This is originally a oneshot rp between iliras_words and me from a while back. We both love it and thought that this year for Halloween, we'd fiddle with it a little and post it as a fic. All songs/poetry in this are also written by us. We hope you enjoy!

It's a cold evening. the leaves have long turned red, then grey, and tumbled to the ground lifeless and crooked. He slows his steps as he enters the forest, corkwood branches heavy and low, roots curling in loops and nooses through moss and air. It's a hike, up the hill, but he walks steadily, not in a hurry. At the summit of its height, the old corkwood branches still look the same, and as he climbs the tree and sits, his spot still feels the same. He sits until the moon comes out to glaze his lips in silvers, urging them to part.

_“hey-o, dear lands, here rests my head,_

_against your corken shoulder._

_hey-o, my conscience still at rest,_

_here where the nights be colder._

_hey-o, have you bemourned my loss,_

_you darling exil'd valleys?_

_for once again I tread the moss_

_of my forsaken alleys._

_hey-o, I've come to find again_

_the heart I left behind_

_with all cold lights bereft and slain,_

_I ask thee, be but kind_

_hey-o, my chest is barren, tight_

_has been for many dawnings_

_I preach thee, give me back tonight_

_my heart for seven farthings.”_

It takes few lines before anything happens in the moonlit shadows. But it does, finally, and a darkness among the darkness gathers, raises, blinks.

It blinks. Silver light shows something barely there, but it is there, quietly listening to the singing man. He notices. he does. something is happening - and he keeps on going, because what choice does he have, really.

_“sweet whitest lamb on meadow's morn_

_it found the wolvog sleeping_

_I would the lamb-ling had been torn_

_yes, all the world'd been grieving_

_Alas, the child, it wandered yond_

_and ho, t'is my belief;_

_I would it had been torn and dead_

_for loss stings more than grief.”_

Shadows move with the moon, and silver slips over a silhouette. It does try to look human-like, but with effort it forms unfocused edges and eyes gleaming with black. It keeps low by the tree's roots, more like a nymph breaking the water to peek at the wanderer than like an animal crouching on the ground. Silver teeth show when it opens the fake mouth, spikes of moonlight.

 

s̵̡̛̺̜̰̞̱͇̬̳͇͖̲̻̠̼̙̟̈́̽̋͗̄́̒̀͊͌̊̊̆͝i̵̡̙̲̐̐̈̍̑͛̅̐͠ṉ̵̨̭̟̱͕̻̗̞͖̞͖͚̯͉̖̟̲̊̀͊̄̈͗͌̅́̽̂͋͑͝g̷̠̲̹̖͓̮̤̝͔̹̞̽̎́̌͐̍͂͘ͅ ̸̟̭̮̱̼͚̣̠̱̪̰̦̪̥̳̩̽̇̈̏̃̿̉͝͝ͅî̵̞͇̬͉̮͉͚̱̰̥͋̂̌̈́̀̐͘͝ẗ̵̡̙̖̠̙͉̺̼̙̙̽̚͝ ̴̡̩͈͔̲̺̰̪̮̱͙̼͔͈̰͙̄̂̃̑͂̈̿͋̕͜͜ą̵̜͙̜̭͇̝͔̪̣͈̋̃̾̅͋̋͋̒͒̽̑̀̚͜͝͠͠g̴̡̻̟͎̰̟̓̓̈́̓͘ͅą̵͓͙̮̗̝̱̓i̶̧͎͓̮̖̪̹̫̜̜͓͉̰̭̦̘̳̪̬̾̋̆͌͗͌͆̐͝ͅṋ̶̡̡̨̢̝̺̻̩͓̞̳̫̠̟̾̀̆̍͑̽̇̓͌͜ͅ

 

 

He doesn't look down. He rests his head against the corken stem. starts anew.

_“...for loss stings more than grief._

_my darling, ho, he was a gambling-man_

_his sleeves, he-yo, were filled with aces_

_my man, ho-oh, he was a cheater though_

_they chopped, he-yo, his head with maces._

_my darling, ho, he was a soldier-man_

_his hand, he-yo, it steered a rover_

_my man, ho-oh, he was a coward though_

_they ran, he-yo, his ribcage over._

_my darling, ho, he was a preacher-man_

_his words, he-yo, they gave us purpose_

_my man, ho-oh, he was a trickster though_

_they threw, he-yo, him_ _to the serpents._

_my darling, ho, he is the devil's friend_

_his soul, he-yo, has burned forever_

_my man, ho-oh, owns my heartstrings though,_

_one day, he-yo, we'll be together.”_

The creature scoffs when the song ends, and disappears back into dark pools of shadows beneath the tree. But then it's - he's sitting next to the singing man, not too close, but enough to be distinguishable among the night, lit up by the moon as if it was alive. Maybe is.

**You're on my tree, stranger.** It whispers with hissing sounds, maybe the words are only forming in the head of the singer.

“I used to be a lot more often.”

**Why are you out in the moonlight?** , The shadow asks, for a moment baring silver teeth again, black eyes narrowing.

“I'm looking for things long lost.”

his smile is that of a man not afraid of death. The thing shifts out of focus, tilting its head, looking at the man - clearly unconvinced. **Is it dead? There's a lot of dead things here. All of them lost lostlost lost. Void takes, lost things need space.** “I'm not sure.”, he replies. he reaches to his neck, pulling a pendant into the moonlight. clear matter enclosing a lock of hair. **Souls are all lost.** Shadows slip on the singer’s finger as if there were another hand in his own, grabbing the pendant and turning it around, slipping through cracks to the lock and retreating, leaving the pendant dangling violently. **Some are never found.**

“we never wanted to be found. then, ages ago.” the smile is sad, but truthful. “thank you, dear friend.”

**bringing me dead parts to look at, reeking with oneself. Why would you want to find what's lost when it wants to be lost?**  The shadows shift and focus into another human, smiling madly, eyes staying black and teeth silvery. It gestures over itself, one leg over the other, hair perfectly combed. **Why look for lost when it's here?**

“...don't do that.” it's soft, and it's sad. “I've looked into a thousand mirrors in my lifetime already.”

**You're gonna have troubles with accepting some things, then, I'm afraid.** The words are clear, and the silver smile is razor-sharp - then shadows dissolve, disappearing.

 

 

i̴̜̝͖̪̳̠̳͗͌̈́̌̓̊̅͛̈́̃̇̓̓́͑̃̚ţ̴̧̜̫͉̦͖͙͉̝͓͖̺̩̫̳͑͌̃͗͛͆͐̓̌͗̆͒͘͘͝ͅ'̸̧̡̢̛̼́̀̋̾̈́̄̅͗̊͌͂̾̃̕̚̚s̶̡̲͙̜̯̳̋̅̊̿̀̀̎̇̈̇̾̐̚͜͜͝ ̷̡̨̧̢̜͚̟͕̤̦̪͖̏̈̀̐͋͛̔̊̅̈́̃͊͝ ̵̡̪̹̗̳͖̟͓̲͇̠̟̪̻͊́̍͑̑̈́̑͜ ̷̧̩̹̣̗̬̩̦͍͔̙̺̙̪͔̘͐̈́̎̍͌̋ ̴̤̥̣̱̖̫̠͉̣̼̹̣̳̐̊́̋̔̆̐̓̇͠l̸̤͇̽́̋̽̐̒͆͌̋̓͌͊̕͝ō̶̢̢̮̖̤̽͑͆̂́̈̒̀̽̃͆̓̈́͗͝s̶̡̟̮͕̘͍̪̺̼͇̼͙̩͇̱̙̖͊̈́̾̇͐̇̓̉̈ţ̴̛̜̻̬̰̞̲̭̰̼͖͈̭͔̫̹͎͂͌́͛́͐̇ͅ.̷̢̨̡͙̥͙͚͕͈̟̬̙̯̳̱̈́͋͂ͅ

 

 

“I miss you.” but his words find no ear anymore, no darkness to listen. the moon is fully out, now. Silver light meets a lying man under the tree, looking at the sky with his hands twined on his chest. The sigh that comes from him leaves a whisper hanging in the air.

“What do you want...” An exhale, from up on the branch. friend. lover.

“I've come back.”

**from where?** shadows sit on the branch again, across from the singer now, crouched on a thin branch like a cat, black eyes gleaming, but the man under the tree still lays there, staring upwards.

“why back?”

“I couldn't settle. I thought the world would miss me, or I the world.” a shrug, almost. admission. “But the world is just as lost as it was before and with me, and I, I see nothing in it. I came back, because here lies my truth.”

**...there is nothing lost,**

**that may be found,**

**if sought.**

The shadows whisper, with silver teeth showing in mock amusement, and the man from under the tree is now sitting next to the one up on the branches, flippantly dangling his feet, looking ahead. “What is the truth?”

“the truth, the truth.” he's still hesitant about it. But he has to, needs to see, and then find peace as he should. “my flesh and bone, and his. I am ready to accept; I will myself to. The world needs me not, but I needed it, until I wandered and saw that I see nothing in the world when my truth lies buried here beneath the moss.” The man next to the singer sighs, looking down at the tree's roots now. “I lie there, you sit here. What do you want to know? Maybe all this is a dream.” He shifts into shadows on a branch again, and into darkness creeping in the corner of his eye, and again into the man.

 

 

 į̸̢̡̫̜̩̘̖̥̭̮̗̜͙̠͓̊͛̀̾͌̽͜'̵̢̧̛̖̟̦͚̻̱̦̙̻̻̱͙͎̥̗͉̀̒̃̈̾̓̿́̆̔̓̅̄̍̏͒̃́m̴͙̤̖͎̗̭͈͇̖͖͚̣̰̦̖͆̅̀̐̀̌͝ ̶̨̛̙̱̯̱̤̙̭͍̗͇͐̆͆͆͘͝͠ͅh̴̭̮̥͙͎͂̈́̋̈́̓̔̍́̓͗͑͋̇̾̕͠͝e̴̢̙͉̼̣͈̜̯̩͕̥̠̲͆̋͛̑̆̚ṛ̵̢̱͙̼̯̎̄e̶̥̳͇͓̜͙͇̘͉̓̊͆̍̂̈́̔̆̓̃̿̑͌̆̓͐̚͝,̶͕̜̬͙̪̮̤̣̬̣̮͖̻̩̉̓̇̅͆̏͗͛̔̀͊̊̓̓͐̇̚͘͜͝ ̴̮̫̟̻̫͚͓̎̓̊̿̓͌̒͆͌̀͊͘͜͝͠ạ̴̧͚͕̯̲̟͇̪̝͑̍̒͐̃͊̿̉͒̉͘͜͝͠į̸̝̰̳̼̮̊̂́̀̽̾̿͜͝͠n̷̡͍̮͓̟̜͖̼̭̫͈̭̬̰͕͂ͅ'̶̧͓̥͇̯̼̬̗̠͙͋̏̀̄t̷͇̗͉̯͌̃ ̶̡̘̤͓̥̂̄̇̑̂͐̆̂͆͝͠͝I̵̱̠͖̺̼̝̩̪͎͌͑̽?̸̡̭̠̬̪̬̃̏͌͗̄͑̽̌͛͑́̍͆̓͋͘͠

 

 

“so am I.” a smile, again, unaged by the years. “you've been here all this time? waiting in the dim?” The shadow shrugs and vaguely points to the ground. “It took some time to get out of there. it's all.. me. and not at all.”

“I'm sorry I left you.”

the confession comes suddenly. abruptly. His answer is a shrug, again, and darkness disperses like smoke on the wind.

**why are you here? it's lost. Lostlost lost.**

“so am I. lost.” he leans against the tree trunk, bare feet dangling. “I guess I thought I could get to see you. Get to help you let go.”

“You cannot. I'm here. It's here. it's lost and gone and left here to be a part of things.” The laughter - cold, hysterical, sad, breaking - echoes in the air. **Dig dig dig, the rest is there. almost not anymore.** Again shadow feet dangle next to his ones. “ I know, darling.”, he mumbles. “I know. and I'm there, too, but look at me, I never admitted to myself that I was.”

 

He sits, for a long while, before he climbs down. down the corken wood and inbetween the roots, where moss has grown over the two small hills afoot the tree.

**Don't look.** The shadow hand stops on the chest, equally unreal, as if panicked. **Don't go back, don't look, it's lost. Lost lostlostlost. You promised to stay.**

“I'll stay. but I need to see myself to say the deed goodbye.”

**That changes nothing, just so you'll know. You're stuck.** He shrugs, sitting on his own little pile.

“I know.”

yes, he has regrets. he needs to see, anyway. has become too detached. He reaches for the small hill, digs his hands into the dirt. dig. dig. dig.

_“Mother, my mother, oh please hold me tight_

_the moon put the dog to slumber tonight_

_his paws are now still_

_his nose oh so cold_

_oh Mother, why do the things die when they're old?_

_My Child, my Child, come into my arm_

_your friend's sleep is peaceful, sheltered and warm_

_his pains are all healed_

_his spirit's set free_

_The things that are burdened go homewards, you see._

_The things that we cherish_

_and try to hold tight_

_will falter and wilt_

_and try as we might_

_one day they will perish_

_my darling, it's best_

_by the tree in the garden we'll lay him to rest.”_

**You never listen,** The shadow on a grave sighs in a whisper, watching the other dig dig dig.

 dig dig dig. earth under his fingernails.

_“My child, take the shovel, a hole in the ground_

_to bed our friend, yes safely and sound_

_his soul was so pure_

_his heart oh so brave_

_Take the shovel, dig quickly, a bedrest, a grave._

_we'll lay him, oh gently, in velvety soil,__

_his head on his paws and his tail in a coil_

_his eyes are now closed_

_his fur cold and grey_

_We'll wish our dear friend farewell today.”_

 

**What do you wanna do, what do you want to see?** the man-shadow snarls, clearly in panic now. **You don't want to see this. It's not a nice view, you know.**

“I know.”

He's calm, now. still digging. He needs to see. The dirt is covering him now. He'll find what he is looking for any moment, now.

_“My Mother, oh Mother, the heart feels like stone,_

_why must it all turn into ashes and bone,_

_his bark muted down_

_his trot ever-dead_

_oh mother, this tombstone, it fills me with dread._

_My Child, oh my sweetheart, dry off all your tears_

_what the dead thing embraces, the living thing fears_

_his sleep is not pain_

_his rest is but kind_

_there's solace in death and old peace to find_

_the things that we cherish_

_and try hard to keep_

_will no longer matter_

_as soon as we sleep_

_one day we will perish_

_my darling, don't cry_

_when you see and remember that all things must die.”_

**Dig dig dig, another lost soul, you're not gonna be happy when you'll find yourself cold.**  Shadow laughs in eerie echoes, disappearing and reappearing next to the digging man, leaning to whisper into his ear. **You can dig all you want, the bodies are rotten-gone, nothing left of soft things, bones burning blue on the pyre. Corkwood wormed its way through the ash, and only the pins and pendants are left hanging on the roots. Six feet below, you won’t get there this night. It's lost, lostlost lost.**

It must have been longer than he thought it was. he still digs, because he doesn't tire anymore- so why stop. He knows, he needs to see.

**...it's never lost.**

The shadow stills next to him, sighs. Nothing is left of it in the next moment, beside the fading sigh in the air. He digs, anyway. digs and digs and digs. for the pendants, a bone, anything. The other shadows flick up and disappear as he works, and the one on the other grave shows once in a while, walking around, watching, sighing. Waiting. A lot of time has passed when his fingertips connect with a hard object. his exhale is shaky.

The shadow waits, now, sitting on the ground next to the hole. He looks defeated, not looking at the man somehow covered in dirt.

“...I shouldn't have let you.”

“no. you shouldn't have.”

it's the pendant. the mirror of the one around his neck. “It's been so long.”, the shadow - the ghost whispers, for a moment looking the way he did, once. “So long and so short and I don't know why we're still here.”

“because I did not let go.” his voice is full of grief as he turns the pendant in his hand. “I was too attached to the world.” He shrugs again, still not looking at the dug-out hole, staring into the skies and slowly shaking his head. The moon is slowly falling down, and shadows are getting stronger. “and by refusing to leave I made you stay, too. and I am sorry I was so cruel.”

he places the pendant back. warm, moist soil. Thriving after absorbing the flesh.

“You should cover it back.”. the ghost whispers, looking more like a shadow, unfocused, shifting again.

“I should.”

and he does. slowly.

_“Out in the streets the children weep_

_the Farmers are putting their dog to sleep._

_a healthy young pup_

_with a temper so bold_

_three tolls before sunset, she will be cold...”_

“Please stop singing.”, the ghost chokes out and closes both eyes, appearing more human than before, silver tears running down his cheeks. then he shifts out again, disappears. “The darkest part of the night is starting.”

soil is falling down the opened grave with a slow push from every side of the hole in the ground.

“... okay.”

he doesn't mind the soil half-engulfing him as he fills the grave again. why should he. He already is in there; already is the soil. Covering the grave goes quicker than digging it up. He lays on top, much like he lay below.

“I missed you.”

 

The other grave, untouched, a little hill covered in grass, is occupied by the other ghost, laying with hands on his chest. He looks at the other one, smiling finally, fully, truly, his form shifting in between every previous one, taking too much space and not being there at all. **I never left.**

“you waited, all this time.” only now does the realization fully dawn on him. all this time. “how long has it been?” there's no clocks anymore to tell their time. That, too, he has to let go.

“I didn't wait. I didn't go away. I am still here, and you are, whether you want it or not. it's here.”, he repeats. Shifts, somehow finds enough place to lay next to the other, twining their fingers between them.

“We're still tied to this wretched earth after all, it seems.” yet, the hand holding his feels real. probably because they both are not.

“We're not.”, the scheme whispers, grinning with silver teeth. The moon falls from the sky finally, and leaves the world in dimmed darkness. “We're everywhere we want to be.”

“are we.”

quiet sighs in the dark. it feels like home.

“…you'll show me?”

“Anything, my love.”

the voice sounds like both buzzing electricity and echoes of a whisper at once.

“It's time for you to join me. High time.”

“yes. I'm sorry I made you wait. I wasn't ready. I am, now.”

 

he can feel himself get lighter, but there is no fear within him.

An echo of a happy laughter, fading into the darkness.

 

 

**Welcome home.**


End file.
